


Married Life

by Mynuet



Category: Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-23
Updated: 2010-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynuet/pseuds/Mynuet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Guinevere settles down to life together with Joe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Married Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stephmuji](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephmuji/gifts).



Guinevere Pettigrew had a lot of training when it came to being an old maid. Being a vicar's daughter, she was already halfway to being a dried-up old spinster before she'd even reached adulthood; a strict sense of morality didn't fit in well with the way most people actually lived. Then Jack had died in a trench somewhere in France, and the part of her that dreamed of marriage and a family and a home of her own had died with him.

It was easy to drift along and let her life pass without thinking about it. Her mother became ill, and Guinevere was needed at home to nurse her. By the time she might have tried to find a life on her own, it didn't occur to her or to anyone else, that she should. She took care of her father and the rectory, doing good works in their little parish and generally being a shabby genteel nonentity.

It had been a shock to remember that her father didn't actually own their home, because she'd always known but had never really thought about it. The squire had been kind enough to let them stay through her father's long illness, even after her father could no longer perform the duties of his office. He'd been in enormous pain and it was a mercy when he died, but she still wasn't prepared in any way for losing him, and still less was she prepared to find a way to live and support herself.

Still, she couldn't take charity, so she'd assured the town leaders that she would be perfectly fine and that she was looking forward to finally being able to live in the city and have a career. They'd hailed the news with relief and, she thought, genuine good wishes for her happiness. She'd been a forty year old woman with no home and no prospects; finding a position as a governess had at least provided her with a roof over her head and a little money to buy clothes. It might not have been a good life, but it was a way to get by and she'd expected that to be it.

Delysia had changed her life like arriving in Oz had changed Dorothy's, introducing color and light and music and making Guinevere herself realize that there was a wild side of her that she'd never dreamed might exist. Being with Joe was even better, because he liked both sides of her, the Miss Pettigrew who dressed in velvet and the Guinevere who had put on an apron and started weeding his garden when he'd had to leave her at home while he sorted out some business matters. It had been shocking and exciting to actually _live in his house_ while they were waiting to get married, but he'd respected her enough to wait until their wedding night to actually consummate the union.

Or he would have, if she had wanted him to. It still made her smile, and blush, that she'd actually had the nerve to suggest that he should come to bed with her. He had been gentle and sweet, kissing and caressing her until her every inhibition was gone and making her feel beautiful. More, making her feel cherished.

He'd insisted on moving to the country immediately, dragging her through various grand estates that would take an army to run. He'd ask her if she liked them and she'd say yes, because they were all lovely and he looked so hopeful. She didn't know how to tell him that she couldn't possibly picture herself living in any of them; the role of lady of the manor wasn't one to which she'd ever aspired.

Somehow, though, he knew, and took her to see a ramshackle old place which needed a bit of work to be restored to its former glory as a spacious, comfortable family home. She couldn't help smiling in delight as she walked through, picturing how everything could look, and he watched her with amusement. "I offer you mansions and you want a cottage."

"Hardly that," she cried, clutching his arm. "You could fit at least three cottages into this dear old home."

"It's conveniently located," he said. "My new factory is just a few miles away."

Guinevere clapped her hands together. "Oh, Joe! The socks?"

Nodding, he said, "It seems that, just as I was contemplating a return to my youthful vocation, there started to be a pressing need for socks designed and manufactured to military specifications. I'm actually helping the war effort."

"I'm proud of you," she said warmly, and he gave her the fond, almost shy smile that she'd adored from the first time she saw it. "I think we're going to be very happy here."

Taking her hand, he said, "I agree."

Settling in was not without its challenges; they discovered the roof leaked just above their bedroom while engaged in a very pleasurable mid-afternoon distraction, and there were all sorts of things that cropped up needing to be fixed. Guinevere had not only had to buy a new wardrobe (although all her lingerie was made personally by Joe, which he insisted was for his own benefit), but she had to outfit the house from the ground up, as she'd owned nothing and Joe had leased his flat with all the furnishings intact. It was like living in a dream, especially since every motion she made towards economy was dismissed by Joe as unnecessary.

It was an idyll, and sometimes she felt guilty for being so happy when so much was going wrong in the world. Rationing started, but she had grown all her own vegetables once and started doing so again, and she bought some chickens and a cow so they would have fresh milk and eggs. They were far away from any of the bombings, but it turned out they were not quite immune to their effects. Guinevere felt wretched when she read that Charlotte Goldman - formerly Warren - was killed in an air raid, even if she had barely know "the rabbit" and had been actively engaged in thwarting her ambitions the one day they'd interacted.

Joe had objected to her going to the funeral, as he had an appointment with the home office and could neither accompany her nor bear the thought of her facing any danger alone. She made a point of not actually promising not to, though, and so her conscience was clear as she boarded the train that would take her to London. Joe returned home that day to find his life had changed again.

"He needs a home," Guinevere said, a bit defiant as she put the mashed carrots that she'd been trying to feed the baby down on the high chair's tray. "He's not Phil's, and he has nowhere else to go."

Shaking his head in resignation, Joe leaned down and kissed the baby on top of his wispy hair before caressing his wife's cheek. "He seems a likely little lad. What's his name?"

"George," she said, smiling with love and relief.

"I can't say I know anything about babies," Joe said, studying the child. "Still less about being a father, but I suppose I'll learn."

Standing up, Guinevere threw her arms around his neck and kissed him as hard as she could. "How did I get so lucky as to find the best man in the whole world for my own?"

"By being the best woman," he said, and kissed her back.


End file.
